Snipe
by Authenti
Summary: A young woman is shipped off to BLU base to learn from their Sniper. A war is, of course, a rather stupid place to ask for lessons. She wasn't supposed to get involved in the actual fighting, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note

Argh. I accidentally deleted this story - right after I got a nice review, too! Ah, well, it's back up now. I apologise for the inconvenience. 3

---

Dusk. The Scout returned from a scouting mission. Was this normally so unusual? No. But the fact that he returned with something other than intel was kind of a surprise.

"Guys! Guys, get over here!"

"Ugh, vhat is it zis time?" The team's Medic pushed his glasses further up his nose, slamming the papers down on his desk and storming towards the door. "Did Antoine get another accidental sniper shot again?"

The energetic Scout tore open the door and slammed it against the wall before the Medic could even touch the handle. "Doc, you gotta come see this! 'Cause I sure as hell ain't touchin' her!"

Sigmund sighed and followed the Scout at a steady pace, knowing full well that a potential patient could die if he wasn't quick… but not _quite _caring enough about the consequences. But…

"Wait. Wait, I said! _Horst_!"

"'Lax, Siggy, I'm only a couple metres ahead, geez. And hurry up!"

"Did you say 'her'?"

The Scout slowed down a little so he could catch up. "Damn right I did. Idiots sent a girl! I dunno what they think they're tryin' 'a pull, but as soon as she stepped off that train she must have hit a sticky bomb or somethin'. Damn REDs knew we were gettin' a train and rigged the station."

They reached the station in minutes, the Medic's curiosity piqued enough to make him run. Sure enough, lain haphazardly over the tracks, was the unmistakeable body type of a woman. She pulled herself over to sit up against the train bumper, clutching her knee and groaning faintly. Below her hands, on her exposed shin, was a myriad of burn marks. Other than that, though, she looked more or less unscathed; her short, blonde hair wasn't even ruffled and her black suit and tie were immaculate.

"A little help," she called in a strong British accent, "would be appreciated! You, there! I assume you're the medical staff. Do your job!"

Sigmund stepped forwards, blinking, and headed over to her with his medi-gun raised. She eyed it suspiciously, but lay back patiently as he pulled the trigger and the burns on her leg slowly vanished.

"Scout was right… Es ist eine Frau…"

"I don't speak German, sorry. I took French for my GCSE and A-Level though. Got fluke Bs on both, but I didn't learn much."

"Ohh, you'll be wantin' to talk to the Spy if you know some French. Gives him a good scare if he thinks he ain't the only one who understands his own insults. 'Sides, you kinda look like one." The Scout grinned and offered her a hand. "Here. We'll go back to the base, ask to use communications, tell 'em to send another train, and you can go home. How's th-"

"No, no, you misunderstand. I'm here for training. I'm not going anywhere I can't see a gun."

"But you're a-"

"A girl? Uh-huh. I kind of noticed, you know, in that I don't stand up to pee. Of _course _I'm a bloody girl, now- one sec." She whipped a small, light sniper rifle out of her back pocket and cracked it over the head of… empty space? The RED Spy collapsed forwards, his cloaking device ceasing to function along with his consciousness. "…Boundah… …Now take me to the base before I get shot at!"

"Wh- How did you even _see _him!?" the Scout gaped at her. She grinned and cuffed him around the back of the head as she stood up, disregarding his offer to help her.

"Easy when you have a eye for detail… Nah, sorry, I saw him over there before he cloaked."

"Ze Spy is not dead." The Medic stepped forwards, about to end it with a suspicious-looking syringe, but she blocked him with one arm.

"It's not my job to kill people. If he steps in front of my gun when my finger's on the trigger, though, then it'll be his own fault." She followed the duo back to their base, still turning away the Scout's suggestions for her to go home.

The Medic stepped aside to let her enter the base first, and she nodded politely. "I believe ve did not exchange titles, Frau."

"Keep calling me Frau, then, because I'm not telling anyone my real name before I know everyone else's. You with the mic headset and the baseball bat, you can call me 'girl'."

"That's… kinda dumb-"

"Ffpmm chmmmm!" someone yelled, voice muffled, and a Pyro in a blue suit leapt out from behind a wall to spray the trio with flames. 'Girl' tripped over backwards, then narrowed her eyes as the flames died down and glared hatefully at the Pyro from her awkward seat on the floor. She was only glad she wasn't wearing a skirt.

"You could have warned me he was going to do that," she growled. The Scout grimaced.

"Ya never know when he's gonna pop out and do a spy check. Keeps us all on our toes." They watched as the Medic re-entered his private study and slammed the door. "Don't mind him. Not really a friendly guy, know what I'm sayin'?"

The girl sighed indignantly and stood up again. "No offense, sah, but I really don't like fire, hurty or non-hurty. Stay away from me if you can help it, or you're going the way of the RED Spy." She brandished her gun again as if it were a bat, and the Pyro backed off.

"Mmf mmmf mm!"

"Can't hear you, too busy listening to your heartbeat." She stood as if she were some kind of predatory dinosaur for a moment.

The Pyro whimpered, looked both ways and then bolted.

She strode forwards and the Scout followed. "My name's Danny, by the way."

"Short for Daniel?"

"Don't call me that or I'll bonk you one just like I did a RED Soldier. Dented his helmet and whatever was underneath. Real nasty." He flipped his trusty bat in the air, catching it again at the handle.

'Girl' sighed. "Whatever you say, Danforth." She dodged a swipe from the Scout's bat. "Where's your team's sniper?"

"Oh, I bet he'll be up at the sniper roost. He never leaves that damn attic nowadays."

"Mm. Show me."

---

The Sniper took aim carefully. Missed. Cursed under his breath.

"What? _What _could you possibly need from me _right now_, Dan?"

The Scout shifted uncomfortably. Sniper was a hard man to be around. "Uh…" He coughed once. "There's a girl down there, says she wants t' see ya."

A bullet ricocheted off the wall right where Scout's head had been a moment before he ducked. "Don't make me laugh. 'Aven't you got worse men to bother?"

"Yeah, he's not coming down," Scout called through the open hatch.

An unmistakeably feminine voice drifted back up in reply, and Sniper tensed. "Well, that's disappointing." A faint clanging and a curse as she attempted climbing the ladder and almost lost her footing, and then a blonde-haired young woman crawled up through the hatch and stood up, dusting off her suit.

"What the…"

"Sorry," she grinned, "didn't mean to intrude. But I'm supposed to learn to shoot this thing properly," she plucked her rifle from her back and slid it across the floor to come to rest at Sniper's feet; "and you're going to have to teach me."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, man," Scout grinned at Sniper's incredulous face, and ducked down the ladder before he could retaliate.

Sniper gaped at her for almost a minute before recovering his manners and averting his gaze, pulling his hat down to shade his eyes. "And just what is a woman doing on the battlefield?"

"Cool it, Aussie. I'm not on the battlefield. I'm hiding in a sniper's nest, and I'm well away from the window. No battle going on here. Besides, that's sexist according to regime change five-six-three."

"No, kid, I think you know why I'm askin'."

"Yes, yes, well, I've already had one of those _bloody _spy checks carried out on me and I can assure you, I'm honest as the day is long. Basically, sir, I'm here to learn. Teach me to wield a rifle, to shoot a man through the head, and to hit a moving target. If I learn, I go home and we never bother each other again. Simple."

"And if I refuse?"

"I wait until you get replaced, and learn from the new guy. There will always be one, and it's only a matter of time if I chat like a hussy and get so annoying you miss all your shots."

The Sniper gave a loud groan. "Alright, ankle biter. You got papers?"

"Ask your medic to run a check. Er, he has computer access, right?"

Sniper grunted and removed his gun from its aiming position, strapping it to his back and starting off down the stairs. Etta followed him with an exasperated growl. So he was one of those silent types, eh? How utterly irritating.

Someone grabbed her arm just as she turned away from the bottom of the ladder. She turned her head, but there was no one there… A blade pressed itself to her neck and a man in a suit materialised out of nowhere.

"Leave her, Antoine. We're sorting this out. We'll see if we need to kill her or not."

"…Merde." The Spy released her and slunk backwards. Amber dodged forwards, a hand to her neck where a bead of blood trickled out. She wasn't afraid of loud explosions and gunfire, but being ambushed by one person? She was mortally terrified of that…

"Leave me alone in the future?" It was more of a request than a command, though she hadn't meant it to come out that way. She waggled a hand at him and trotted forwards to catch up with the Sniper.

"I'll give you some info for nothin', mate. Don't mess about with him if you can help it."

The girl went pale and nodded, keeping her head down as they rounded the corner of the base towards the Medic's office for her second time that day.

"Mmmf ch-" The Pyro leapt out in front of them and brandished his flamethrower, then flinched as he realised who it was; "-MMMMPF!" He screamed beneath his mask and fled backwards round the nearest corner.

"Is he normally that scared of you?"

"Nope. I hate to ask what you said to the poor bloke." Sniper grinned. "Alright, here. Step inside." He held open the door and the girl entered the office. There were four beds here, all typical hospital-style white covers and plastic underneath the sheet. She eyed them in disdain as the Medic approached them, looking outraged.

"Vat are you doing in my office? Out, both of you."

"Well, sorry to bother you, doc, but this little sheila doesn't have paperwork. We need you to check the database."

"Or the communications network," she piped up. "Someone at headquarters can vouch for me."

"Zat vill be quicker." The Medic took a seat in front of the computer, clicking five times and then typing furiously for a while. The response was almost immediate. "She is cleared. Zey have given me details, but I do not care for zem unless zey are medical files. Now, go. _Heraus_."

"I think that means 'out', sheila," the Aussie smirked and shepherded her out of the door again. "Glad you're clear. Spy worries all over the place nowadays. Anyway, if you're serious about the sniping thing, don't expect the others to welcome you with open arms. A war isn't the place for learning, and we all know it. Keep a low profile. We start in tomorrow's midday cease-fire."

"And until then?"

Sniper rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Two options. Stay out of the way, or have your blood and organs replaced with bullets. I'm Westyn. Good luck, mate."

She watched him stride off, rifle over his shoulder, and sighed deeply.


	2. Chapter 2

The Engineer raised his monkey wrench defensively, frowning, but she looked alarmed and spread her hands in front of her. "Aargh!"

"Sorry to scare you. Can't be too careful. I'd get rid of that suit if I were you. Makes you look like a spy at a distance." He continued work on a teleporter, and the girl relaxed. "Daniel told me you were comin'."

"The Scout? I thought he hated people calling him that."

The Engineer grinned mischievously and adjusted his goggles, stepping back from the finished gizmo. "O'course, we don't say it to his face. Morty tried it once – he's our Soldier – Dan nearly broke his shin. Tough guy, Morty."

She nodded. "What's your name? So far I have Morty, Danny, Westyn, Antoine and Sigmund."

"Uh-huh, and so far you'd be right. Everyone just calls me Tex, short for Texas, y'know, where I'm from. You can prob'ly tell." She nodded and smiled. "Well, Ivan is our Heavy Weapons… uh, Specialist… and we… Actually, we just call Pyro 'Pyro'."

"You don't know his real name?" she asked incredulously. Tex chuckled heartily and patted her shoulder.

"Antoine claims to, but I have yet to teach him to share. Spoilt Frenchie'd keep intel, too, if he wasn't under a strict contract. We tried askin' Pyro, but he never takes that damn mask off and I for one can not make head nor tail of anythin' he says."

"I don't think Pyro or Antoine like me very much."

The Engineer smiled and took a seat on the metal steps nearby, starting to polish a shotgun. "Let me guess – you spooked Pyro, and Spy tried the knife trick." She blinked at him for a moment. "Yeah. They're both just paranoid, maybe Pyro more so. Pay 'em no mind."

"My name is Etta."

"Huh? Oh. Nice name. I think I knew an Etna once, but she was a real creep. Nothin' like you." Etta grinned and took a step towards the nearest door, but something swished through the air right where she'd been standing.

"Look out, kid! Spook's about!"

Etta ducked instinctively and rolled to one side, Tex aiming carefully at the seemingly empty space above her and firing two or three shots. "Can't get a focus on 'im. Get to a wall, kid, they can't stab ya in the back if they can't get to it."

Etta complied, shuffling awkwardly over to a corner and wedging herself between the two walls, trying to ease her rifle out of its holder on her back without exposing herself to any harm.

"I think he's gone. Don't let your guard down, though. Spooks're sneaky."

"Nuh-uh. I see him," Etta growled, swinging a leg out wildly and catching the invisible man in the shin. His cloaking device failed momentarily and he stumbled against the wall, Tex taking aim. Etta was faster, though, and put her gun to the man's shoulder, firing once. It looked like more or less of a clean shot, and the Spy slid down the wall with minimal blood. "I kind of feel bad about that."

"Don't. If he'd gotten anywhere near one of my sentry guns, I swear I'd have to manually disembowel the feller." He grinned and put his shotgun down. "Alright, be careful. I gotta go. If those damn spahs get mah sentries, I'm gonna choke 'em."

"Good luck."

The Engineer tipped his hat sociably and headed out of the door. Etta waited until he was out of earshot, and her smile disappeared. "Sorry to shoot you."

"You got blood on my suit. More importantly, why would you help an enemy spy?" He had a British accent, though less defined than Etta's.

"Because I don't kill yet." She watched carefully as he picked himself up, clutching his shoulder, and headed for the door. "Emphasis on 'yet'. Next time I catch you, I'm going all out. Find your medic and go back to your base."

"Thank y-"

"Shut up. I'm killing you next time. If you see a green dot on your head later, it's me."

The Spy shot her a purely confused look. "Maybe I should have turned this job down."

"Yeah, maybe you should."

---

"Vat you do in my office again? You get shot?"

"N-no, no, I just… Is this the safest place-"

"You vill not stay here. Go hide somewhere else."

Etta stuck her foot in the door just as it shut, gritting her teeth. "Please. I'll be quiet and I'll stay out of your way."

"Go avay."

"Please?"

The Medic stared her down for almost a minute. "If you do not leave by yourself, I vill make you leave." He loaded a syringe into the gun that he was holding, and aimed it calmly at her face. Etta winced and leant away from him, but kept her foot in the door.

"I'll help?"

"…Help? Vat you help _me_ for?" He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and she seized the opportunity.

"Sir, I promise I won't be a burden."

The Medic hesitated and lowered his weapon, making a 'not happy about doing this' face and scratching his chin briefly. "…I suppose… if…" He waited another moment and then sighed deeply, pulling open the door and striding back over to his desk. "Make no noise, stay in corner. I vill find something for you to do."

"Yes, sir." There was a loud explosion from outside and she shuddered, ducking into a corner and drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Ist only their Soldier. He vill leave us alone."

"How do you know?" Another explosion made the room shake and Etta suppressed a whimper. The Medic gave her a blank look and adjusted his glasses.

"They go for ze intel. Ve are pointless targets."

Etta merely hugged her knees tighter, understanding but not reassured. The door burst open seconds later and she stifled a whimper, then realised it was only Scout.

"Doc! We need you out there! Pyro's hurt pretty bad!"

Sigmund said nothing, but grabbed an odd-looking gun and was out of the door in seconds. Scout followed, intending to give cover fire, and Etta inched her way over to the door, pushing it shut and collapsing against the wall. She'd thought for sure she was about to get blown up or shot. Sniper was right; a war zone was no place for learning. But she wasn't allowed to leave until she'd gotten five headshots in a row, apparently. Inwardly she cursed higher management, and moved away from the door.

There was a faint click as a speaker system kicked in.

"Alert! The enemy has taken our intelligence!"

Etta grimaced. That couldn't be good. She remembered seeing Scout with a red suitcase on his back, which probably belonged to the enemy… but what was she supposed to do about theirs?

Footsteps outside the door. She watched through the keyhole. A man with a helmet skidded to a halt in front of the door and glanced around worriedly. He was wearing red, and he was carrying a blue suitcase. Etta set her teeth and retreated to the Medic's desk. There was a saw hanging from a hook on the wall above it, and she hesitantly grabbed it, then crept over to the door and put her hand gently on the latch.

Etta wasn't afraid of killing. She was used to it; her brother was an assassin just like she wanted to be, and she'd often watched him at work. But she was afraid of dying. And if that Soldier heard her open the door… she shuddered, trying not to think of that. Still, a medical saw? That was an awfully personal way to kill someone.

She wondered how many REDs had been on the wrong end of this, and grinned. That Medic had to be crazy.

Etta very carefully, very slowly pulled the door open. It didn't creak. She crept forwards and raised the saw, intending to disable the man's shooting arm first and wing it from there.

She swung the saw roughly into the Soldier's arm and heaved backwards, feeling a crunch reverberate up the weapon to her arms and wincing at the noise. He let out a scream of pain and whipped round, gun at the ready to match the rifle she'd just pulled from her back. Stalemate, but she had the nasty feeling he was going to shoot first…

He didn't. Instead, a blue shape flickered into view behind him and drove a butterfly knife into his back, twisting once and then stepping back to let the man fall away.

"You can thank me later, poule." He tapped his wristwatch and once again became invisible. Etta heard footsteps heading away, and determined to stay inside the office from now on. She dragged the Intelligence into the room and shut the door with a relieved sigh.

A bell sounded. The communications system kicked back into life again.

"Cease fire. Return to base."

"Vhat have you been - …das ist our Intel." Sigmund circled her suspiciously and took out a gun, firing a syringe into her leg. It didn't hurt, but stuck there awkwardly so she cringed and pulled it out. "Sorry, little Scharfschütze. Vass a little suspicious."

"Yes. Sorry for stalking around your Intelligence. Your Spy helped me reclaim it."

Sigmund was not listening, and merely headed over to his desk and sat down, immediately starting work on some paperwork.

"Wo meine Säge ist?"

"Mm?"

"My bonesaw, Dummkopf. Vhere is it?"

She glanced down at the bloody saw in her left hand and pulled a face. "Er. Well, you see-"

"Ah. So zat is vhy zeir Soldier vass outside ze door. You made such a mess." The Medic shook his head disapprovingly, and threw a towel at her. She took this as a command to clean the blood off the saw, and proceeded to do so before she dared to ask about the body.

Etta hoped tomorrow would be less eventful.


	3. Chapter 3

Knock, knock, knock. "Hey, wake up."

"Mnn?"

"Wake up, mate."

Etta mumbled herself awake, sitting up slowly and stretching. "Ynn… What… What time is it?" She was in the medical bay, but luckily she wasn't injured. It was the only place in the base with spare beds, and she'd had nowhere else to sleep. The Medic had his own room, but still seemed uneasy about her staying in the medical room overnight. At least he'd let her have a spare key, though, and she'd been undisturbed all night despite the faint explosions from deep underground. Medic had warned her about the Demoman's experiments.

"Six o'clock, mate. Up and at 'em." She let Sniper yank her to her feet, staggered forwards, and almost fell over again. "Concentrate. Have breakfast, then meet me out back."

"Yes sir."

"And don't be too long." Sniper vanished out of the nearest door and she heard a muffled click as he loaded his gun. Etta smiled. She had forgotten that her training started today, and it was a nice surprise even if she should have been expecting it. Etta quickly changed out of her blue pyjamas and into her suit, dusting it off and then grabbing her rifle from where she'd leant it up against the Medic's desk.

---

"All set, mate?"

Etta examined her rifle, then frowned. "I have the shakiest hands ever."

"Th-"

"In the history of the world."

"Well-"

"That includes when dinosaurs were around."

"Will you shut it, sheila!? Look, just… what've you had for breakfast?"

Etta leant against the wall and thought back to ten minutes ago. "Er. A croissant or… three." Judging by the fact that they'd been way at the back of a cupboard and had a gap of a good couple of inches between them and the rest of the breakfast stuff, she had naturally decided to disregard the clear bid for ownership. Still, she could guess that the only Frenchman in the base was likely to be giving her dark looks for a few days.

"Hm. Drink?"

"…Oh. Yeah, that was probably it." Sniper gave her an enquiring look and she sighed. "Scout made me drink some of that stupid fizzy whatever-it-is today."

"Oh, that. Don't drink that." Etta nodded. "Ever." She looked slightly worried.

"…Well, we don't have to call it off, do we?"

"'Fraid so." She gave a growl of anger and stomped over to the nearest wall, gently tapping her forehead against it comically. "Look, if ya really want to learn something today, I can teach you to use a kukri."

"A what, now?"

Etta watched in vague interest as Sniper pulled out a large knife. "Oh. Looks dangerous."

"And this doesn't?" He dropped the knife so it stuck upright in the dirt, and had his rifle aimed right at her in the blink of an eye. Her hand twitched, as if to move and try to rub off the blue dot of light that was planted right between her eyes.

"Good point. At least I know I'm learning from the right man. I don't have anything like that knife, though. Will this do?" The girl flipped open a penknife. Sniper eyed it with a disdainful look.

"No. In foresight, no, it probably won't, mate. No."

"No?"

"No."

Etta mumbled something irritably and stalked off down a corridor, resisting the urge to throw her own rifle at the wall. "I'll be back when the sugar's worn off," she growled.

---

The days passed slowly; as much as Sniper hated to leave his comrades unattended, Etta refused to leave him alone.

"The sooner I learn," she would keep saying, "the sooner I can leave."

So he taught her as best he could. She didn't have a natural talent for it, but she picked it up quite quickly. As it turned out, she had fairly shaky hands even without drinking radioactive sugar, though that didn't help matters.

"Ugh. Missed _again. _I must be the worst sniper in history."

"Don't hate yourself, mate. Keep at it and you'll steady up eventually."

"How long did it take you?"

"…Well, I wasn't exactly a jumpin' jack from the start like you. But you'll sharpen up."

Soon, their lessons moved to the snipers' nest. Etta learnt to aim for Heavies, since they were slower and larger targets, but couldn't help trying to get a shot at the enemy Scout. He looked vulnerable, but _damn_ could he move!

The easy part soon stopped, though. Etta was sitting on a crate, inside which was her rifle, and attempted to polish her penknife on her sleeve. Something touched her forehead, and she froze in place. She'd known that her luck couldn't hold out forever, but maybe taking a seat this close to the entrance and dropping all concentration had been pushing it.

"Drop your weapon." She complied. It fell to her feet, and the sharp 'clink' made her twitch. "So you're the one who's been shootin' at me, huh. Good thing you're a crappy shot." Etta slowly looked up and met the eyes of the RED Scout, who was grinning at her darkly. "See, the BLU sniper knows not to aim at me. I'm too frickin' fast. But hell, you yourself are one hell of an easy target. Bitch." He lowered his scattergun and moved it to the side, then in one quick motion whacked her around the head with it. Etta lost consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

A dark ceiling swam into view, and she felt something cold pressing against her back through her suit. With a jump, she realised it was a concrete floor. Trying to ignore the pulsing headache, Etta slowly sat up and quickly regretted it.

"Oww…" she whimpered pathetically.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Etta groaned and opened her eyes again, having clenched them shut against the pain in her head. A look to her left, and she realised she was in a prison cell of some kind. Three concrete walls and a line of sturdy red bars, in the middle of which was a door. Behind it, a man in a red, faintly-pinstriped suit smoking a cigarette. "You were out for quite some time. Scout must've hit you hard."

"Okay, let's get this over with, snake. What can I do to make you let me go?"

"I hardly think you're in a position-"

"-to be making demands? I'm not making demands. I'm speeding things up. I know, and you know, that I'm going to have to do something proactively to get myself out of here. So what do you want? Intelligence I never had access to in the first place? A crudely-drawn map of their base in colourful blue crayon? A list of first names that won't help you? Because unfortunately that's all I have to bargain with."

"All would be completely helpful in every way, but…" The Spy grinned at her through his mask. "We want to know about you."

Etta groaned again and hoisted herself onto a bench, lying on it lengthways before starting her speech. She'd rehearsed this in her head just a few seconds before he asked. "I'm a student who visited the BLU base to learn how to snipe effectively. My name is Ella, I'm twenty, and I'm from Berkshire, England." Etta knew how to lie effectively. She'd practised often, mainly when someone accused her of something she had done but didn't want to admit to. 'Ella' she chose because it was easy to answer to, and therefore harder for anyone to realise she was lying. "I miss my parents, I want to go home, but can't because I haven't finished my crash-course."

"I've been taught not to believe anything you tell me if you don't sound legit."

"I've been taught not to trust a Spy." She shrugged. "Hasn't everyone?"

The Spy shrugged nonchalantly and finished his cigarette, exhaling smoke and dropping the end into a wastepaper bin just outside her cell. "And-"

"You're from London," she said suddenly and matter-of-factly. A stupid grin was beginning to spread across her face.

"What?"

"That is the worst accent I have ever heard on a Spy. You sound like a chimney-sweep."

"I-" It sounded more like 'Oi'. She snickered.

"I keep imagining you with a dirty top hat and soot all over you."

"Shut up, kid. Is this any better?" He adopted a mock American accent, but she made a choked whining sound and he realised she was trying to hold back hysterics. "I have about thirty-two accents, not including my real one. It's only typical, for a Spy. You'd know that if you had half a brain."

"Haha! Ha. I know. I know, sorry, I know, but…" He also sounded young, maybe only in his early twenties. Clearly this meant experience was out of the question, and he was going by the book as much as he could. Damn rookie. Apparently common sense and pro-active initiative were rare commodities nowadays.

"Shut up and listen. I have things to be getting on with. Just pretend to be listening." She wasn't even trying. "Look, _Ella, _if I get one more peep out of you…"

There was an ominous silence. He studied her face carefully. Her lip trembled.

"…AAHAHAHAA!"

The novice Spy stormed out of the room, pride visibly smashed. Etta fell off the prison bench and didn't even react to her sides hitting the floor, she was buried too deep in her own hysterical cackling.

"Are you _quite_ finished?" Ah. Now _there _was an accent that wasn't awful. Not the most kindly of _tones_, but at least the accent was genuine.

"Heeheehee… haha… Yes… Haha, I am so sorry. He was just so…" She crumpled into giggles again. "…Terrible!"

"Quite. Stand back."

She stifled more laughter and attempted to compose herself as she backed into a corner, the BLU Spy uncloaking and attaching what looked like Blu-Tack to the lock on her cell door. She snickered at the irrelevance of this. A loud 'bang' like a firecracker going off, and he stepped forwards to give the door a gentle nudge. It swung open.

Etta raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to steal a key or something?"

"As much as I hate 'aving to resort to such blunt measures, time is not on our side. For whatever reason, ze Administrator wants you safe. _Some of us _were all for allowing you to stay with ze REDs, as 'ospitable as zey may be."

"M'hm." She followed him down a corridor and through a short maze of turns. "I'd have thought you'd automatically shift into Prince Charming mode once you realised there was a woman around. You're being awfully quiet, even for a Spy."

The Spy gave her a disdainful look. "As much as I would _love _to let something so trivial get in ze way of my profession, mademoiselle-"

"You're still upset about the _bloody _croissants, aren't you?" She grinned as the Spy fell silent. "Ha! I knew it." She was aware that this was definitely not the problem, but the fact that he hadn't denied it merely gave her cannon fodder to annoy him with.

"Shush."

"No, really," she whispered, lowering her voice to avoid attracting attention. "That is _truly _unprofessional. Croissants. Honestly." She shook her head. They moved on in silence and made it to a set of metal steps that led down into the gloom.

"I hate zis route. Zey want me to escort you all ze way, but you would not object to-?"

"Of course not. Wouldn't want your expensive, tailored suit to get crumpled, now, would we?" She flashed him a cheery smile. He seemed to get the hint, and glanced at Etta's own attire.

The Spy heaved a deep, I'm-trying-to-stay-calm sigh and set off down the steps.

"That's what I thought. You want a lesson on ridiculously expensive clothes, sir, I will _give _you one." Her perfect black suit had, miraculously, survived the kidnapping intact, minus a scuff here and there. And a small tear in the neck. She tutted at this abominable error on the REDs' part, and made a mental note to use them as target practise once she found her rifle again. Especially that RED Spy. She was going to bloody well _kill _him.

Although perhaps she'd do better to leave the Scout alone next time. He was kind of a killjoy.

---

"Why couldn't you have just taken a different _bloody _route!?"

"Eet was blocked by a Demoman and 'is explosives."

"Couldn't you have stabbed him?"

"He 'ad his back to ze wall. Ze explosives were planted all around him, and ze exit. If I had tried to sneak out with my watch, I would have 'ad to leave you behind."

The pair spent a minute or so looking over their drenched suits and picking off pond algae.

"Well," they both said at the same time, "that's the end of another good suit."

Etta glanced at the Spy. He was giving her the exact same wide-eyed yet somehow empty stare that, she realised, she was giving him.

"Er. Coincidence."

"Total coincidence, ma cherie. I will see you in ze debriefing room at cease-fire." With that, he was gone. Etta listened to his footsteps up the stairs just ahead until they died into silence, and then followed. _Thank heavens I brought a spare suit. I wonder where the laundry room is. Provided they even have one, the filthy peasants._

She felt proud of herself for remaining an unreachable idiot even during a kidnapping. She wasn't sure why, but the hint of a scowl on Spy's face as he had faded out of sight gave her a real kick. Etta loved annoying people. It had been in her blood since she was a child, and at twenty-five years old, she wasn't about to change any time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Etta snuck towards the door as if she were in one of those typical espionage films, just managing to prevent herself from holding up her hands as if they were a pretend weapon and ducking round corners. Hell, not like there was anyone watching. She assumed. The thought of the Spy made her shudder involuntarily, even if he'd just saved her from abduction.

The door handle gave a faint squeak as she turned it, and she froze before it made any more noise. No one reacted. She pushed the door ajar very slowly, about a hand's width from the frame.

"You might as vell come in, fraulein. You are not suited to being a Spy."

Etta grumbled pointedly and closed the door behind her with a quiet twist of the latch. "I thought you might be asleep."

The Medic was sitting alone at his desk again, a pen occupying one hand while the other strayed across a sheet of paper which was piled on top of, unsurprisingly, about fifty other sheets of paper that littered the glass surface, all illuminated by a single weak desk light in the otherwise dark blue-ish room. Actually, it looked like he didn't quite know what to do with his free hand. There was a red mark on his forehead, showing where it had been up until the moment she'd walked in.

"You should know by now, fraulein. I don't sleep." The hint of a smirk strayed across his features, but he still hadn't looked up from his work.

Etta strayed closer to the desk. "You won't cut me up and plant pills in my open veins if I read over your shoulder, will you?"

"The thought is scintillating. Don't tempt me." Another half-smirk. Etta ignored his answer and began reading over his shoulder. "Unfortunately no, I am not joking, fraulein."

She held up her hands defensively and backed off. "Well I'm not going to pester you like that bloody Scout any longer. I have a question for you."

"Fire away."

"What's the best thing for steadying your hand?"

There was a short pause and the Medic stopped writing, as if trying to work out quite what she meant. He glanced over his shoulder at her with a frown. "_Vhat?_"

"Well, I've got super-shaky hands. I can't stay steady when I aim." She waved her rifle emphatically. "It's the reason I came here. I decided if a war setting couldn't shape me up, nothing could. I've tried everything."

The Medic continued to frown at her, then stood up and walked out of the room without another word. Etta took the opportunity to meander back over to the desk and get a better look at the papers. Mostly medical reviews. Demoman's looked worrying, covered in mostly red ink (…ink? She couldn't be certain about what this Medic used in his pens), but she didn't have time to read it before the Medic returned with a worryingly foreign expression and handed her a small glass bottle. In it was a single pill, white and almond-shaped.

"A-haha. Yes, of course, I should have guessed. You're going to use me as a guinea-pig."

"Nothing of the sort, fraulein. Admittedly, I have no idea what ze side-effects are, but at least it _should_ keep your hands steady." This was the first time she'd seen him genuinely grinning, although he buried himself in paperwork again before she could scrutinise him too closely. Still, even if he was trying to hide his enthusiasm, he wasn't good enough at poker faces to hide the dangerous implications it had. "Take one tonight as a test. And," he added, as an afterthought, "don't come running to me if you lose all ze feeling in your legs." A muffled bark of laughter and Etta couldn't help but grin.

"M'hm. Well, I'll do my best not to fall over the edge of the snipers' deck if I start seeing colours in everything." She headed out of the room, humming the funeral march in an upbeat major key. The Medic stifled another fit of laughter, and she decided he was quite comfortably mad.

Still, if this thing had a chance at preventing her hands from shaking so much, then she felt like it was her duty to try it. Etta retired to her new room just across the hall, hoping she wasn't about to throw up all over it.

In hindsight, it was possible Medic had chosen that particular spare room for her because he'd be able to hear the effects of whatever experiment he was conducting on her. _That nasty blighter planned for this all along_, she realised.

---

"Alright, wankah, what did ya do to her?"

"Vhy do you accuse me of everyzhing, Sniper?"

"Because everything is always your fault."

"Not necessaril-"

Medic broke down into helpless chuckles as Sniper's hand shot forwards and closed around his neck, pinning him against the cupboard. He tightened his grip, but the doctor was still laughing.

"What did you do?"

"Nozhing. She took ze pill willingly." More raucous laughter as he pulled out his kukri and held it dangerously close to Medic's neck beneath his other hand. "Hahaahaaa…. Let… Let me go before I forget how long it takes to wear off." With a curl of the lip, Sniper lowered his blade and eased his grip on the Medic's throat.

"If you get the sheila sent home early haemorrhagin' blood, I'm not covering for you. The Admin can have 'er way with ya."

"I could alvays cut it out of her veins vith a scalpel, but vhere's ze fun in zat?"

"How long," Sniper grounded his teeth painstakingly, "does your damn drug take to wear off?"

"Oh, I don't know. A few hours. Maybe more."

"Maybe?"

"It vas experimental."

Sniper slammed the door behind him as he left. The hysterical giggling from the room across the hall hadn't stopped, though it had quieted down some. The door opened a little and Etta collapsed against the doorframe.

"Oh! The sniping guy! Long time no see! Wait, no… I saw you yesterday. Pch… eheh…"

"Calm down, sheila."

"Hahaha! My name's not Sheila. It's Etta." She fell backwards onto the floor and shut the door. He was about to walk away when a loud 'thunk' attracted his attention. A muffled shout soon followed. "It's alright! It's okay, I'm fine, I just fell on the door! HAHA how do you even fall on a door that is hilarious. Hey! Hey _Sniper!_ My hands, are not… Are not even shaking. Isn't that funny? 'Cause I was shaking like a leaf yesterday."

"Good _night_, mate," he snapped at the closed door.

"Okay, I'll be quiet! I totally understand and respect your wishes!" Etta called after him. He decided it was entirely her own fault for accepting anything Medic offered her, and would make a point of ignoring Medic for a good couple of days afterwards.

---

"What happened ta you? Ya look like hell."

"I didn't think medicine was supposed to cause hangovers."

Scout winced. "Ooohh. You let Medic give you somethin', didn't you."

Etta pressed the bag of ice to her head and let out a groan. "I think I'd rather have unstable hands than go through this again." Scout handed her a glass of water. She stared at it for a good couple of minutes in utter silence before gingerly risking a tilt of the head to take a sip.

"You plannin' on takin' more o' those dumb shootin' lessons again today?" Etta grunted her confirmation. "You shoulda chose someone other than Snipes ta learn from. He's a real moron."

Etta made a noncommittal noise. "I don't think so." She shifted in her seat at the kitchen table and spontaneously threw the ice pack at Scout. He caught it easily and slipped it into the freezer again. "See, I'm betting you're good at rounders, but how accurate are you with a gun?"

Scout winced and put a hand behind his neck. His attempt at impressing her by belittling Sniper apparently wasn't going well. "…Uh, does it matter? I use a Scattergun. Ya don't have to be accurate."

"Yes, see? We all have our specialties and shortcomings." She glowered at him for a while and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh… why're you starin' like that?"

"Make me some tea, for God's sake! Have some bloody manners, you stupid Yank!" She suddenly threw the nearest light object at him (a tea-towel, as it turned out) and after it hit him in the face Scout decided to do as she said. _Damn_ it, she was scary when she had a headache.

---

Author's note: lol, medic. 8D This chapter was fun to write. Feel free to review and point out how terribly this story was written in comparison to everything else I've ever submitted. xD


	6. Chapter 6

"Your hands look a lot steadier today, sheila." Westyn was careful not to place too much emphasis on this, trying to leave a message that he knew what she'd done and was _not _happy about it. "A lot steadier." Etta shushed him and took aim again. After about a minute she reached over with one hand without taking her eye from the rifle scope and picked up her mug, sipping tea from it and making a face.

"Ugh. He put sugar in it. Ruins the stuff."

Westyn sat back on the supply crate and eyed her carefully. She was avoiding having to deal with the whole 'I know you took drugs' thing. "Plannin' on being there all day, mate?"

"I've found out that the longer I stay still, the steadier I become. Leave me alone for a minute, alright?" She set the cup down on the floor and nudged it away with her foot. That was awful stuff. Etta planned to lecture Scout about it later. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Westyn sighed and flicked the rim of his hat up a little, leaning back and keeping an eye on her. The battle was a good time to practise on moving targets, but if she kept this up much longer, the cease-fire would be called and she'd run out of-

A muffled gunshot. "Hah." She seemed satisfied and leant back a little, then frowned and took up position again. "Wait. Did I…? Oh god, I did." Westyn approached, becoming worried, but a triumphant look spread across her face. "HA HA! Perfect head shot!" She stood up and span round, grabbing the veteran Sniper's hand and shaking it firmly. "Either I suddenly became very lucky, or your help has paid off, Westyn. Thank you."

The Sniper snatched his hand back with a dismissive grunt and retrieved his rifle from the box in the corner. "Look… mate…" He avoided her eyes and tugged the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes a little more. "I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm not sure I trust you."

Etta shrugged. "I don't expect you to. I mean, my arrival wasn't exactly planned for ahead of time…"

"No, I mean… Now. Not from then. I don't trust you _now. _With a gun." She scowled.

"Oh, come on, I'm not _that _bad."

"No! Sheila, I-"

"Etta."

"Etta. I don't know who yeh are, but… The way I see it, you're a girl with a gun. I can't see you as a sniper. My point is, you shouldn't be here, mate." She still didn't look like she understood. "You're not even… reacting. To killing."

The girl nodded slowly, finally seeming to get it. "Ah. You mean I should be feeling guilty." _That's it, _he concluded, _guilt. Why can I never just say these things? _"Yes. I suppose I am rather cold towards my victims." She ran a hand through her hair and winced as it snagged a little. "I need a shower."

"Don't change the subject."

"Okay, look me in the eyes so I don't have to say this again." Sniper blinked at her. "I _do not care _about other people. They're just _things _to occupy _space. _I understand that they all have families, feelings, friends, and a lot of other things beginning with 'f'. People have lives. The thing is, I am in my own life, not theirs. I just do not see why I should feel empathy for anyone I don't know personally."

Sniper eventually looked away, after about a minute. They always did when she gave that speech. Satisfied, she nodded politely and made her way past him without touching him or the wall despite the fact that they seemed like a few centimetres apart. _I am a small person_. She'd long forgotten whether or not she'd meant that in a physical sense the first time she'd had that phrase in her head.

"Don't get yourself killed, though. I'd probably feel bad about that, if nothing else." she added, and felt a little better. Sniper kept staring blankly at the place she'd been standing when she made her little announcement. Etta headed down the steps from the snipers' deck, about to do as she'd originally intended and go shower in the medical bay (the thought of having to use showers only men had used for years was, quite simply, repulsive to her; so she took hers in the medical bay). Once she found herself standing in the middle of the sick bay, however, she stopped where she was.

Etta had always been suspicious of the line of spare curtain rails stacked in front of each other at one part of the wall, ever since she first set foot in this room. Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby (especially Medic), she took hold of the back rail and pulled it gently away from the wall. It took the others with it, and she blinked at the white door that had been behind them all. _I knew it. There's always a door no one wants you to go into. I thought it might be in the medical bay; Medic is the creepiest team member I've met._

"Step avay from there."

Never had she heard Medic's voice from quite this close. He was standing right behind her, practically breathing down her neck, and she felt a tiny jab in the small of her back as the tip of his syringe gun pressed into her. Etta slowly lifted her hands and placed them behind her head, and allowed him to carefully manoeuvre her against the opposite wall. She figured this was probably her best option, at this point.

"And don't do zhat." She put her hands down again. "It makes me vant to shoot you."

"Sorry. I was just curious."

"Curious does not begin to describe vhat I think of you. I cannot fathom vhy you vould test my patience like zhis."

Etta bit her lip, going even paler than normal. "Honestly, I am so sorry. Whatever you have hidden away, I'm sure I don't want to see it now that you've steered me away from it like this." _I bet it's corpses. _She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up at this eerie thought.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Etta didn't dare turn around in case he decided to shoot her. She couldn't have known just how close it had been.

Medic's finger began to tremble on the trigger of the gun, and he had to close his eyes and take several slow breaths to stabilise himself. If it could be called 'stable'.

"_Aaargh._" Etta flinched as the gun clattered to the floor and span away from them, Medic turning on his heel and kicking one of the hospital beds hard. He stood still for a good five minutes, and she didn't move from her stance with her nose to the wall, either.

She tried to think about something else, but her head was filled with thoughts about what size needle he was about to stab into her neck. The BLU doctor was messed up. She knew this, and apparently so did he.

"Thank your lucky stars the Administrator vants you alive." She let out a breath she didn't even remember holding. "But your curiosity, unfortunately, is bound to reveal itself again sooner or later. Come."

"Hnn…?"

"Verdammt, I am _not _doing zhis for you to stand there und think about it, I am doing zhis so you do not _ask!_" Medic aimed another vicious kick at the door before he flung it open and Etta took her chances following him before things got any worse. As much as she was now dreading what was beyond the secret door, which she minded to shut behind her, she couldn't help but feel like it was her only option right now if she didn't want to undergo euthanasia in the next twelve seconds via some nasty chemical akin to bleach.

The Medic's footsteps betrayed nothing of his current temper as they made their way down a pitch-black staircase. Etta slid her hand along the metal railing as she descended, not wanting to risk a slip-up with Medic's mood the way it was.

After a short corridor, the walls opened out and Medic flipped a switch. Contrary to Etta's expectations, the room she now found herself in was small and clean, with a bare tiled floor. There was no furniture, no pictures on the walls, nothing – except a single violin case leant up against the wall in the far corner. From what she could tell, it had a leather covering and had three silver clasps holding it shut. Other than that, though, the room was completely empty.

"Happy?" Medic asked her, seeming to have calmed down. "Tell nobody else about zis. It is ze only quiet place left in ze entire complex."

"I wouldn't, anyway. They'd only bother us both about it. 'Ohh, cool, you found a secret room, tell me everything you know and we can talk about vandalising it for hours on end!'" Her mock Bostonian accent wasn't a particularly good one, but it fit her ideas about the Scout so far: completely useless. "Ugh. I can't do it, but you know what I mean." She smiled. Medic said nothing, but his stance was no longer tense and his hands had relaxed out of clenched fists and hung still by his sides. He just looked… well, tired. "I promise not to tell anyone. I don't see the point. I was just interested for myself."

Etta turned back to the dark hallway and was about to set off, but hesitated. "Is this place soundproof?"

"Yes." She could have sworn he was biting back laughter. "It is."

"No, no, don't cut me open just because no one can hear us. I just figured that was why you kept the violin down here." Medic tensed up again, and she had half a mind to high-tail it out of there. Mentioning the violin had been a mistake. If he turned around now and held up a scalpel, she was utterly screwed…

"I… do not play ze violin."

"Oh. I thought it was yours. Sorry."

"It is, dummkopf. I just… do not…" He took a deep breath. "Ich bedauere."

Etta slowly turned round, expecting to see him advancing silently upon her with a bonesaw. He wasn't, but his hands were trembling slightly.

"Are you alright?"

"…Urlaub. Leave. Go."

She didn't need telling twice.

---

Author's Note

Argh why is this one so medic-centric I don't even know. :O Anyway, I got the little bits and pieces of German from an online translator. I don't speak German. Feel free to correct me if the grammar is off, because we all know how bloody _reliable _those translators are. Here are a few of the translations (again, these are probably inaccurate – it's always a worry):-

_Ich bedaure – I regret_

_Urlaub – Leave_


	7. Chapter 7

Sniper knocked his hat down over his face, blocking out all the light and effectively masking him. He didn't like people watching him with his eyes closed. Not that she was watching. Etta was too busy trying to get another lucky shot at the REDs.

"Keep an eye out for Spies, sheila," he mumbled lazily, unsure if she'd hear him properly through the hat. Etta glanced over in his direction for a moment, then worked it out in her head and nodded to no one in particular.

"Thah r'minds muh…" she slurred, concentrating too hard on aiming to pronounce every word. Bang. She sat back, irritated at missing her shot. The RED Demoman would live to see another day. "I've been meaning to talk to him."

"Don't," Sniper yawned casually. "He's trouble."

"M'hm." The heat was getting to them both, making them sleepy. The sniper deck was partially shaded, but it was still fairly exposed to the dusty desert air. "I know. But he might know something about Medic."

Sniper lifted his hat, face twisted into an alarmed expression. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No. Don't go delving into Medic's business, mate." Etta watched him carefully, seeming to wait for an explanation. "He always finds out you've been snoopin', and then it's all 'accidents happen'. Better to leave well enough alone." Satisfied that she'd got the message, he leant back again, but left his hat where it was. He wanted to be able to gauge her reaction from this.

The girl pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and shouldered her rifle, stepping into the shade behind the wall of corrugated metal. She looked… indifferent, he supposed was the word.

"Mm. I know it's asking for trouble. But to be honest, it's only harmless information I'm after." She smiled brightly, hoping this would disarm the conversational bomb and get Sniper to stop staring at her. It didn't, so she scurried away down the hallway before he could berate her for her decision.

She bumped into something invisible just as she turned a corner, and decided after she'd gotten over her initial alarm that it must be Spy.

"Oh! I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Really." Uh-oh. That wasn't a French accent.

There was a flash of silver, and she looked down in disbelief at the reflection of herself in what little of the butterfly knife was left sticking out of her stomach.

"Ohh, _biiiitch,_" she breathed as the enemy Spy twisted the knife sharply and drew it out in one fell swoop. As her vision began to waver, she swayed on her feet and found herself thinking how calm her voice had sounded despite the expletive. How suave of her. She'd have to remember to do that again next time she was stabbed.

Etta hit the deck loudly, and the sound of a scuffle in the next room faded away.

---

Snap, snap, snap.

"Sheila. Are you alright, mate?"

Snap.

"Stop twitterin' yeh fingers aboot, ye damned Aussie. The lass needs medical attention. It don't matter if she's awake or not."

"Like you'd know anything about medicine, alkie. Just pick 'er up and take her to Medic."

Etta saw the blurred figures of the Sniper and the Demoman standing above her, swimming in and out of focus. And then, suddenly, she did what felt like blinking and she was in a white room that hurt her eyes.

"Yeh'll be fine, lass. Medic'll sort yeh out."

Surprisingly, she wasn't sure if that odd sensation in her stomach was pain or not. It kept fading in and out of feeling. She wondered why, and then understood when a blue rubber glove prodded gently at her midriff.

"Nuuuhh-h." _That hurts. _She vaguely heard some whispered German, and debated whether or not the words were medical terms or curses. He poked her again, about a centimetre to the left. "Nrrargh." _That hurts more. _"Ssznuh." _Stop it._

"Will yeh stop pokin' her and fix her up?"

"If I do not find out ze exact location of ze knife vound, I cannot operate through her shirt."

"Why no' just- _oh. _Oh ho ho. My mistake. Alright, lad, jus' fix 'er up. I'll get off yer back aboot it."

Another quick stream of foreign words, which Etta was now certain were directed at the Scotsman. Thinking about it, she hadn't really spoken to the BLU Demoman before. He'd kept his distance, and she'd kept hers. They hadn't really even formally introduced themselves to each other. In a way, though, it was probably for the best. Etta didn't like explosives. It was such an undignified way to die, body parts flying everywhere and getting blood and innards all over the place. Then again, if Medic lost it, she was pretty much going to end up like that anyway. For some reason, Etta couldn't be afraid. She could only laugh at the thought of it. Maybe it was the drugs. That was probably it.

"Augh. That's just wrong."

"If you do not like ze sight of blood, you should not be in a varzone."

"War isn't a problem. Operatin' tables is a problem."

"Naahhh." _Fix up your grammar. Also, little Timmy is stuck down a well. I can't help not being able to talk right now, so I have an excuse for sounding like an idiot. _She snickered to herself quietly.

The Demoman watched her closely, apparently disturbed by the blood spilling out of the knife wound when she laughed. "Should she be awake durin' an op?"

"It matters not if she is avake; ve have few medicines zat vould knock her out and not kill her. She is not feeling pain. If she vas, _zat_ vould be something I vould vorry about."

"Ohh, so yeh're _worried _aboot the lassie now, are yeh?"

Etta heard a faint 'thunk' and watched as the Scotsman fell sideways off his chair, a disturbingly huge needle sticking out of his collarbone area. She looked back up at Medic, a stupid grin on her face.

"He vass getting annoying."

"Nn." She risked a look down at her stomach. He was stitching her up, and she seemed mesmerised by the movement of the needle going through flesh. Normally this would have made her feel slightly ill, but right now all she could do was giggle again.

"Stop moving around so much. You vill end up having your stomach sewn to your arm."

Eventually, the stitches finished and her second suit ruined, Medic moved her to one of the beds. Etta ventured into an uneasy sleep, unable to turn over in case she dislodged her stitches or fell off the edge of the bed.

---

The day was over before she woke up, but it looked like the Demoman had recovered a long time ago and had been shepherded out of the medical bay almost immediately - probably under threats of more needles.

As it was, she woke to the same navy shadows and orangeish desk-light glow as the night Medic had shown her the violin room. Medic wasn't at his desk, but the clock hanging above it told her it was three o'clock. He must be asleep in his room, but had left the light on for her. Or he'd forgotten. Etta was too busy wondering what woke her up to care; it turned out it was the door opening.

"Sorry to disturb you, mon amie." Etta thought better of trying to sit up. Knowing her luck, such a simple movement would probably mean certain doom. She hadn't exactly been lucky as of late.

"That's perfectly alright. I was planning on speaking to you at some point, you know."

"Quelle chance."

"It's about Medic, actually."

Spy held up a hand briefly. "Will this necessitate a long explanation?"

"I don't know yet." He sighed and motioned for her to continue. Etta noticed that he kept one hand behind his back, but chose to overlook this detail until later. "Excuse me for not standing up… Er, what do you know about him, aside from his profession?"

Spy smirked and held her gaze steadily. "I have his computer data."

"Useless unless you can tell me about it." She hadn't meant for that to sound so snappy, really. Nevertheless, Spy was unperturbed. "For instance, does he play any musical instruments?"

His expression seemed to falter from its usual cocky smile for a brief moment. "Ah. So, you have seen ze violin, eh?" She blinked at him, trying not to give anything away. "Not to worry. I discovered it the first week I came to zis compound. I am surprised it took you three; you have proven to be an observant young lady."

"Why, because I took your croissants?"

"Will you shut up about ze damn croissants, woman!?" Spy immediately regretted this. His plan had been to show no emotion; yet here he was, being lured into anger by an idiot. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his 'free' hand (the other was still hidden behind him), trying to calm down. "Non. It was never about food. You know zis. Stop taunting me about it."

Etta couldn't help but grin. Of course she knew he wasn't upset about that. That was the whole _point_. If it really _was _attributed to that, she wouldn't be bloody doing it, now, would she?

"Continue. I'll be quiet."

Spy nodded sharply. "Well, I had no intention of telling ze others. But I was still curious as to why he would hide such a thing away. So I infiltrated ze computer database… it was simple enough… and discovered something rather interesting." He moved to take his cigarette case from his pocket, but stayed his hand immediately and sighed. If Medic caught the smell of smoke in here, Spy would get his lungs surgically removed. Etta was still watching him closely. He cleared his throat. "When he was still living in Stuttgart, Germany… he apparently had a close friend at seventeen years of age."

"Seventeen? How old is he now?"

"I have my guesses he is around thirty. It is undisclosed in the file. As are all of our ages, although I know that you are twenty."

"Ugh. Sneaky bugger."

Spy's arrogant smile was back, and it was starting to get on her nerves. Still, if that was where he got his kicks, she couldn't hold it against him. Being stuck in a military outpost for years must be boring as hell wait oh god that wasn't a good thing she was the only girl why didn't she think of this before-

He clearly wasn't interested in that right now, and hadn't been since she got here. None of them were; they knew better. Etta mentally chided herself for coming to that conclusion in the first place.

"Anyway," Spy continued, secretly wishing he could smoke while he told her this next part, "it turned out he was getting very friendly with a young woman around that time. Their respective parents did not approve."

"And…?"

"She committed suicide right before her family was torn apart," he said in what he hoped was an emotionless voice, "by Nazis."

Etta swore quietly.

"I know no exact details about ze violin. Work it out for yourself." Spy didn't seem to want her to, however. He was giving her a dangerous look that implied she would do well to avoid the subject from now on.

"It must have been a memento."

"Vhat," came an eerily quiet voice from the doorway, "vas a memento?"


	8. Chapter 8

Etta stared in horror at Medic, who was standing perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back. Spy slowly turned to face him, somehow managing to keep a perfectly indifferent face.

What were they going to do? Medic was undoubtedly going to kill them both and use their cadavers for experiments and turn them both into zombies or something-

"Zis," Spy answered seamlessly. He produced a single rose from his sleeve, and Etta realised this was what he'd been hiding behind his back the whole time. "I was planning on giving zis to 'er before we had our little chat." He dropped it neatly on her bedside table. Etta marvelled at how he'd seemingly managed to salvage the situation in the blink of an eye. She'd thought for sure they were doomed…

Medic, however, did not look convinced. Her hopes shrank.

"A memento for vhat, exactly?"

"She asked me why I had a rose-bush planted somewhere in ze base. I told 'er. It was a gift," he faltered very slightly, "from my mother. I knew I would be here for a long time, you see, and it was no trouble…"

Medic seemed to have stopped listening already, and merely stood aside to hold the door open. "Out. I vill not have you flirting vith my patient, sentimental as such a rose may be."

"Very well. I bid you adieu, ma cherie." Spy straightened his tie and exited, cutting a sharp figure against the harsh light of the corridor. Medic waited until his footsteps faded away down the hall and then shut the door.

Etta sighed and closed her eyes, dreading what was to come next. "How much did you hear." It was a statement, not a question.

"Vell, I vas standing just outside since I saw Spy valk into ze room. Does that count as a long time to you?"

Etta opened her eyes again and watched him closely as he quietly made his way over to the desk. Spy had done all he could as far as lying had concerned, and on a slightly less perceptive man it would certainly have worked. But this was bad. He was being far too quiet. Any minute now…

Minutes passed, and the medical bay remained silent save for shifting of papers. He wasn't writing, she realised, because he wasn't concentrating. The Medic was simply sifting through the stuff on the desk and trying to look busy so she wouldn't speak to him.

Bah. She never took warning signs seriously.

"You still miss her."

Suddenly, silence.

"I'm sorry." No answer. "I didn't mean to dig that deep. I only wanted to know about the violin." One might have heard a pin drop. "Doctor-"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"But-"

"I vill have no more said on ze matter."

Etta sighed. "You want to talk about it?"

"…Nein…" A quick release of breath that could have been mistaken for a sob. "Ja. Very much." But he wasn't going to. His tone made that clear. Etta sighed resignedly, shut her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

…

After about thirty seconds, she gave up.

"What was she like?"

At first, she didn't expect an answer. But, slowly, Medic stood up. She heard the click of his boots against the cold floor and the shift of a door.

"Vell… Are you coming?"

They made their way down the dark steps, Etta suddenly thankful her suit had been left on during her stay in the medical ward. It wasn't a pretty sight – blood stained the front and had leaked onto one of the sleeves somehow, and there was a rip in the material where the RED Spy had stabbed her. That man was becoming less of an amateur. She would have to keep an eye out. Still, at least she wasn't walking around in a hospital gown.

Medic seemed to hesitate as he crossed the threshold into the soundproof room, unwilling to turn on the light. Etta soon remedied that, wincing as she reached for the switch and nudged it. Her stitches didn't exactly hurt, they just felt… bizarre. Uncomfortable, yet tolerable. She shouldn't be out of bed yet by all rights, but the Medigun worked wonders once Medic had made sure the stitches were perfect.

"_Can _you play it?" Etta ventured out into the middle of the room, standing just ahead of the doctor.

"Ja. I said I didn't, not I couldn't." He took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself carefully before continuing. "Zhat is, if I still remember…"

She took this opportunity to motion to the violin in the corner. "Would you…?"

Medic considered this. "Nein. Not now."

"Not ready, huh?" She backed off and settled for leaning her back against the wall gently. "You know, if you're upset, you can say so. This room is soundproof – you said so yourself. I'm leaving in five days, and I won't tell anyone else."

"You really vant me to express my feelings, don't you?" he spat. "Just so you can know everyzhing about me and… and satisfy your own curiosity." Etta stared calmly at him. He didn't like her looking him in the eyes like that. She looked far too calm. It made him want to maim her with a bonesaw. "I suppose you vomen all believe zhis. Zat letting out your feelings is a good zhing. Vhat about if you just vant to be alone?"

"And not think about it," she piped up.

"Exactly."

"So that you can get on with your life."

"Ja!"

"And pretend to everyone there's nothing wrong, so that you don't _have _to think about it because no one knows to bring it up." Medic froze, and stared at her. "Yeah. I suppose I went a bit too far, sorry. I don't often get the chance to talk about my feelings either." She slid down the wall, ignoring the prickly feeling from her stitches, and breathed a sigh. "I miss my mother," she said quietly, more to herself than anything. "She taught me to play the violin; that's why I was so interested in… Yeah. Her name was Carol."

"Lily." As soon as he spoke her name, Medic knew he was going to cry. He didn't bother fighting against it like he normally did. The barrier was already down; his little forcefield had shattered. He didn't care about Etta seeing this any more. "She vas… beautiful." Etta nodded, willing him to continue. "Polite. Kind. I… I loved her. A-and…" That was it. He broke down in tears, stumbling to sit beside the violin, wedged in the corner with his hands around his knees, mumbling things he didn't remember if they were German or English. Thirty-one, and he was curled up like a lost child.

Etta kept her distance. Clearly the man needed a hug or something, but he'd probably just stab her with a syringe and knock her out before she could even get close enough.

Etta stood up when he finally stopped mumbling, his face still buried in his hands, and left him alone. She took her time. Halfway up the stairs, the sound of a violin floated up to her. She smiled and kept going, and shut the door tightly behind her. If anyone asked, she hadn't seen him since the operation.

---

"Say, that's a mighty casual look you've got going on today. Ah like it." The resident Engineer grinned encouragingly at her, and she returned it with a cheerful smile. "Doc give you the all-clear?"

Etta glanced down at herself. "M'hm. Stitches were out at eleven this morning. That Medigun thing works miracles, Tex." She didn't like this outfit, really. She preferred wearing a suit. The simple pastel-blue, long-sleeved shirt just wasn't her style. And casual jeans? Unheard of! Still… they were more comfortable, and at least she was wearing blue now. It seemed to make the others more at ease; even Pyro had managed a friendly wave as she passed by that morning – it was the first time she'd seen that fire-obsessed maniac since her second spy-check. She'd almost started to believe he (or she) had up and vanished… Except, of course, for the constant screams and flashes of fire from the battlefield when she'd been practising her aim.

"We were kinda worried about ya," he explained, trying to phrase things carefully so she wouldn't tell him off. Etta looked like the type that wouldn't react kindly to being worried about. "Y'know. Th' Spah attack, and all."

To his surprise, Etta gratefully accepted the tea he offered instead of batting it out of his hand and yelling something about sensitivity. "Thank you! Bloody needed this." She settled down at the kitchen table, taking the seat opposite him and one space to the left. "Honestly… I've never been stabbed before. It was frightening. I've never seen a Medigun before – I thought I was a goner for sure."

"A goner?" The Texan scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Boy, even your mannerisms've gone casual."

"It comes with the clothing," she grinned. "Is _Snoipah_ alright?" Engineer chuckled at this nickname. They'd all come to that one sooner or later, with or without hearing someone else say it first.

"Yeah, yeah. Chucked the RED feller overboard when he heard ya fall to the floor. Really did a number on him." Etta grinned, satisfied. She'd been worried that the RED Spy had been heading to the sniper deck when he'd attacked her, but Medic insisted she rested properly before he'd tell her anything. And even then he'd gotten distracted…

Etta tried not to think about last night. It didn't matter. She'd gotten him to open up about his past, and the air had completely cleared between them. Well, Medic generally still regarded her with the same cold silence as before, but now… it was just a couple of degrees less freezing.

"Say, you oughta talk to Scout. And see our Demoman while you're at it, let him know you're okay. He don't say much that _means _anythin', but he downed a whole 'nother bottle of liquor this mornin'. Usually saves that 'til evenin', not that it could make him any more drunk than normal." Engineer paused, then put a hand to the brim of his hat and adjusted it slightly. He lowered his voice. "Uhh… 'Tween you and me… I think you remind him of his half-niece Mary. Always goes off on rants about Mary, he does. Sweet little girl. He thinks her parents ain't raisin' her right." He grinned. "Probably feels protective or somethin'."

Etta laughed softly. "Bless." She downed the rest of her tea when it got cool enough to do so, and watched the Engineer stand up to leave. "Er, wait, Tex… You wouldn't happen to need any help today, would you?"

"Uhh… No, ma'am. I got it covered. Why?"

"Oh. Then could I watch you work?"

His eyes still obscured by dark goggles, Etta couldn't quite read his expression for a while. Then he smiled. "Alright. Why not? Still, why, though?"

Etta grinned. "Avoiding another episode with that damn Spy." It had shaken her, to tell the truth. She didn't want to risk it.

"Hah! Which one, ours or theirs?" Etta laughed and followed him out of the room. "Though you're prob'ly better off with Pyro if'n you're avoidin' Spahs, to tell the truth."

Etta resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Of course! An Engineer had to look out for Spies anyway – she'd overheard him talking about sentries being 'sapped' or something a while ago. So the logical thing to do would be to avoid burdening him any more and go bother the one who actually took care of 'Spy checks'…

"Oh god you're right I'll be right back." This was spoken all in one rushed breath, and Etta was out of the kitchen in a flash.

***

Author's Note

C'mon, guys, I only have one reviewer right now. I'd appreciate another few. Even if all you can do is find faults, that'll help me in the future, eh? So, since you've read this far, go on. Drop a note and tell me what you think. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey! Hey, firestarter!"

"MMPH!" Pyro attempted to flee, but she was too fast for him and grabbed the back of his suit. "Mrrr…"

Etta grinned and prodded him sharply. "I'm sticking with you today, sir! …Or madam!"

"Mrr."

"Sir it is, then. You see, I'm rather stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, there's a RED Spy making me paranoid. On the other, everyone else is busy or unequipped to deal with this sort of thing. So I'm-"

"Mff mrrff t'h mhh." _Stay close to me. _He was a lot easier to understand when you were standing closer, to be honest.

Etta nodded. She was quite frankly surprised he'd even agreed to it so fast. Perhaps it was just a kind of bleak acceptance that he was going to have her trailing around after him whether he wanted it or not, but at least it was a form of tolerance.

They made their way down a corridor that led to the Intelligence room. The war was still on today – they weren't going to call it off just because a civilian got stabbed – and Pyro apparently had his heart (or hearts… Etta was secretly convinced he was an alien) set on guarding the Intelligence for today. They turned around a wall of monitors ("Hey, can you play Tetris on these?" … "Nh.") and entered a medium-sized room with a desk in one corner.

Pyro turned away from the desk, however, and instead flopped down in the corner between both entrances to the room, sitting calmly, flamethrower held tight.

"What should I do, then?"

This was answered with a quick puff of flame to her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but it just rolled over her. Something about the chip they'd embedded in the back of her neck before she arrived here meant certain attacks would do nothing to her.

Of course, just because explosions and bullets couldn't pierce her skin didn't mean they couldn't wind her, and unfortunately it didn't work at all for the enemy team's weapons.

Or knives.

Not that anyone had briefed her on this.

"Mmf mrrkh."

"Wh-?"

A large blast of flame in the general direction of the doorway.

"Mmf… _mrrkh._"

Etta realised she was standing openly in the centre of the room, in full view of both doorways. "O-o-ohh. Sorry." She ducked over to the Pyro and wedged herself beside him. Appalled by this invasion of his personal space, or perhaps just by her in general, Pyro shoved her roughly to one side. She stayed where she fell and merely rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Mmph." She couldn't be sure if this was sufficiently 'out of the way', but Pyro didn't make an effort to move her again.

Etta sighed. "I should apologise for our first meeting. And second. I was just disoriented, and, er… I don't like fire."

Pyro glanced at her. Something about the blankness of the gas mask was eerie. Etta had never liked those things. Anyway, she assumed it was probably a dirty look he was trying to give her, and adjusted her expression accordingly so into what she hoped was a grimace.

"Yes. Sorry. I know. It was probably a stupid idea to tag along with the pyro-technician, or whatever technical term you're supposed to be called, knowing that I have arsonphobia. But as much as I fear fire, I fear being stabbed in the back even more." She flashed a hopeful grin. "So, er, you're not going to disown me all of a sudden and go off into the battle, are you?" Pyro shifted, as if to stand up and leave. "Nnnuuuhhh!"

"Hh-hh-hh," Pyro chuckled absently. He waited a minute or two and did the same thing again. Etta flinched.

"Nasty piece of work, you are," she scowled resentfully. Pyro laughed at her and suddenly torched the hell out of a RED Soldier who had just attempted to sneak in through the left-hand door. They listened to him screaming and Etta heard him drop and roll, which apparently didn't seem to be working. He ran upstairs and presumably made a break for the water, but Etta could have sworn she heard a sentry gun go off, too.

"Nice," she admitted. "I couldn't do that."

"Dhm strrht."

---

The next few hours passed slowly, each 'guard' keeping themselves just out of the reach of boredom via their own separate methods. Pyro amused himself by burning pieces of paper that periodically dropped out of a fax machine. Etta couldn't help but wonder if some of them were actually important, but she knew better than to ask. She herself kept busy by humming along to some of her favourite songs from back home.

Lunchtime approached, and a cease-fire was called. Pyro stood up and seemed to hesitate, then gave a half-hearted, unsure wave with one gloved hand.

Etta approached him in confusion. "Food?"

"Mm, h rrt 'lrrn." _Yeah, I eat alone._

"Oh. Okay. Well, er, what should I do, then?"

Pyro gave her a muffled explanation and she seemed to get the gist of it.

"Past the… the medical bay? And on the right?"

"_Lhh!_"

"Left! Okay, left. Sorry." She smiled pleasantly and offered a hand. Pyro stared at it blankly for a while. "Shake, Pyro." He eventually did so. "Okay. See you after lunch, I suppose. Will you be here?" A nod. She turned and made her way out of the Intelligence room and down some corridors. She found the lounge fairly quickly and ducked inside, the door creaking loudly to allow her to pass through. Something hit her in the chest and she doubled up, winded.

"Aargh! Sorry, man. Bad timing." Scout put down his pistol and flashed her a worried look. Etta straightened up, eyes streaming a little. "You okay?"

"Y-hhn… Heh… ghrrargle," she answered, and gave the Bostonian a feeble grin and a thumbs-up "Dundoitagainthoithurts," she added as an afterthought, and slumped down into the only spare chair in the room, which was shoved into a corner.

"Aw, jeez, we darned forgot about ya. Hungry?" The Engineer stood up, balancing his own plate on the arm of his chair. Etta hesitantly nodded, not wanting to impose. She'd suddenly become a timid guest and not an unruly student; the change was disconcerting. "I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. You're not, uh, a vegetarian, are you?" Engie adjusted his goggles slightly. Apparently he never took them off. At least, so far she hadn't seen him without them.

"The very thought," she replied hurriedly, "of being forced to live on celery and peanuts for the rest of my life is something which _greatly _disgusts me. If we weren't meant to eat animals, then why do they taste of meat!?" She smirked at this phrase, one she'd learnt from a friend a long time ago and stowed neatly in her mind for just such an occasion.

A vague cheer went up from one corner of the room. The Demoman had started it, being quite obviously drunk, but Scout, Sniper and Soldier joined in immediately. Scout was waving a chicken leg aloft to add to the general effect. Engineer merely grinned at her and put a hand to the brim of his hard-hat, nodding approvingly to Etta before taking off down the hall.

Now that her attention was allowed to wander, Etta examined the lounge more closely. She'd so far been confined to the hallways, the upper parts of the base, the medical room and of course her guest-room. This was very different. For one thing, it had a _carpet. _A nice one, too. Nothing fancy and certainly not expensive, but at least it didn't clash horribly with the wallpaper. The carpet was a sort of soft navy colour and the wallpaper was a subtle tone of pale sky-blue. Not the sort of décor she'd have chosen, but it was a welcome change from concrete and computers.

The team's Heavy was watching a small black-and-white television, occasionally taking a swig from a bottle of 'Red Shed' beer. Engineer had apparently been reading a book, which was flipped upside down to mark the page and left in his seat in the opposite corner. Medic was sitting on the same blue fabric sofa as the Demoman, but to say that he was sitting was somewhat a gloss-over. The word was probably something more like 'perched'; Demoman was doing his best to get the man to converse, but the disgust written on Medic's face as well as the way he was distinctly trying not to fall off the edge of his seat because of the distance he'd put between them both was… well, at least _some _indication of what he thought of the other man's drunken demeanor. Spy, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

"'Ey. Y' ever played this game?" Scout called, waking Etta from her daydreams. He was sitting opposite Sniper; between them was a chessboard. Judging by the distinct scarcity of white pieces on the board, he was probably losing.

"I'm tryin' to teach the ankle biter some culture," Sniper explained, "but wankah 'ere thinks he knows better than to learn the basic rules. No, look, mate, you can't move straight with a knight…"

"Horses run in a straight line unless ya turn 'em! What's wrong with this crappy game!?"

"Hardly crappy," Etta sighed half-heartedly, glancing over at a bookcase and immediately regretting her decision to speak. Scout's eyes lit up and he sneered at her.

"Hah! Oh yeah? Well you take it from here, then." He jumped to his feet and jogged across the room, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her out of her seat. She made an attempt at resistance, but the Bostonian was used to scuffles with older brothers; a feeble slap on the arm by a woman who didn't work out was nothing short of trivial.

"Fine! Fine, then, since you're too _thick _to finish off a game of chess, I'll just have to- WOULD you let go of me." Scout grinned and backed off, hands raised defensively. "Alright, let's see. Oh, god, what the hell is this?"

"Little wankah got himself boxed in by pawns. How you'd even manage something that retarded is completely… beyond… me… did you or did you not just checkmate me in one move?"

"I may have done that, yes." Etta stood up and left the Sniper staring at his blatantly obvious self-made trap. At that moment, the Engineer returned.

"Howdy, little lady," he smiled, and thrust a plate into her hands. "I trust these idiots ain't touched my food while I was gone?"

"If they have, I'm not going to be held responsible. Thank you, Engie." Chicken, peas and mashed potato. So far all she'd had were rather more simple rations, not that she'd expected better. "_Whatever_ is the occasion?"

Scout feigned shock. "You ain't heard of Thanksgiving-Independence-Labor Day?" Etta mouthed a silent 'o' and tucked in to her food before Scout could stitch any more American traditions into his Frankenstein sentence. The Bostonian laughed good-humouredly and slapped her shoulder, moving away to deal with the Sniper's horrified excuses that 'the sheila must've cheated, someone check up her sleeves'.

The war's odd 'half-time' ceasefire ended almost as soon as she finished her plate, and each man went his separate way. Seeing the lounge still untidy, however, bothered Etta deeply.

Somewhere inside her brain, the 'stereotypical housewife' switch flicked into the ON position, and the room was cleaned within minutes. Etta was damned, however, if she was going to do the washing up. She dumped them in the sink in the kitchen which she found through trial-and-error exploring, and after washing her hands of the whole business (literally) the markswoman ended her route at the Intelligence room once more, barely noticing or caring that an entire hour had gone by since cease-fire.

And, naturally, was greeted with an uncomfortable invasion of her personal space as someone in an asbestos-lined suit sprang over and clung to her right arm…

Wait, what?


	10. Chapter 10

A long minute passed, a stream of garbled, muffled sentences jammed into her ears and eventually Etta had had enough.

"Shut up and let go."

She felt the blood return to her hand and massaged her upper arm while she attempted to make sense of the situation, listing her current points of knowledge in her head.

First, she knew that she was rather late in returning to the Intel room. However, she also knew that she hadn't specifically mentioned a time for her return anyway, so this was a moot point.

Etta also understood that she had no idea how to understand what was going on inside Pyro's head under any circumstances. However, he seemed to be in a panic, and she didn't know why.

The final thing she knew was, as she glanced around the room, that the important-looking blue briefcase that had been on the desk was now lying open on the floor, the combination lock broken and its contents strewn all around the room. Ah. Well, that would be it.

"Cause of distress, sir?" she barked loudly, realising that if she didn't take control of the situation right now, Pyro would probably be unable to answer coherently.

The change was immediate. Used to taking orders from the Soldier, Pyro snapped to attention and rapped out a response. "Mrrfh'h mnn hrrf h hrrn."

"What?"

Pyro explained as well as he could, and Etta found herself wishing (not for the first time) that he would just take off the damn mask and _speak. _In the end, though, she came to understand.

"Okay, okay. So," she began, choosing her words carefully for fear of triggering a panicked response; "this is the situation. You left for lunch. When you returned, you were about a minute late for the end of cease-fire." A nod. "Okay. And there was a… what?"

"Uh Sc'hht."

"A Scout. RED?" Another nod. "A RED Scout. With the Intelligence. Figures, they tend to be the quickest. Anyway, then what? He tried to nick off with it, but you, er, torched him?"

"M'hm…"

"Well, whatever's the problem? It's safe, isn't it?"

Pyro stared at her silently for a few seconds, then turned away, clapped his hands to the sides of his head and screamed loudly. "MHHT'F HHL H'VR TH' PLHHS! TH'H 'NNS'RR'S G'NNH KLL MH!"

"The Announcer? Who's that?"

A voice boomed out right on cue. "We have captured the enemy's Intelligence." A moment passed, and the speakers clicked back into life with a much angrier tone. "We have _dropped_ the enemy Intelligence!"

Etta paused for a while, going over this new piece of information in her mind. She'd heard the voice before, stern and feminine, and immediately hated it. But now that her suspicions that it was a prerecorded robot-voice abomination had been smashed to pieces, she was suddenly afraid. If the Announcer could tell what was going on in the other base, would she have the same powers here? And did the REDs have someone just like her, to spy on the BLU base?

Etta was not one to believe in those 'Big Brother' type conspiracy theories, but this one seemed worryingly plausible. If she were being watched… what if it had something to do with that little electronic chip in her neck? Sure, it made bullets feel less like skin-rending bullets and more like mach-speed punches, but there was always a downside.

Etta glanced around. There were no cameras. The chip was apparently under several layers of skin, so that wouldn't have a working camera on it. Which meant it must be proximity to the briefcase! Of course…

Well, work was to be done.

"Why didn't you just clean 'em up?" she asked Pyro, kneeling to scoop up some of the papers. "I mean, it can't be that hard to get them in order… er… ah… _ah._ _Okay._" She dearly wished she hadn't looked for a page number. Where the page number was usually placed was a sickeningly complex equation, distinctly marked out as a page number but otherwise indecipherable. "Aaaaaargh."

"Mm."

"Yeah."

"M'hm."

"Hrrm." Etta scuffled around the room, peeling papers from the floor, and Pyro eventually got onto his hands and knees and helped her to gather them all. They ended up with two sizeable piles that just about fit into the briefcase, but she had a feeling that this 'Announcer' person would probably have a fit if they were in the wrong order when the briefcase was eventually dealt with by the BLU superiors.

Just then, she had an epiphany. Clicking her fingers triumphantly, she dumped her pile of papers on the Intel desk and headed for the door.

"Keep an eye on it, and _don't burn it._ I'll be back in a minute!"

And so the inexperienced long-range combatant ventured out into a small-scale war to find an Engineer.

---

And find him she did. It took some getting there – that oh-so-familiar RED Spy was placing sappers on his sentry gun as fast as the Engineer was working them free with his wrench. But something about the determined look in her eye or the way she was wielding her rifle as if she was on a kamikaze mission with a nuclear bomb must have freaked the man out a bit. The sappers stopped appearing as the Spy presumably ran for it. So that man was cowardly too, eh? Interesting.

"Pheww…" Engineer whacked the last sapper and it fell to the floor, sparking uselessly. "Thanks, kid. I owe ya one. Hope Pyro gets that damn Spah soon, he's been at this all mornin'."

"Hah, about the Pyro… er… I wouldn't want to have a running debt with you, so… Come do me a favour." Etta waved the rifle at him. Engineer pulled a face and started after her a moment later.

"Watch where you're pointin' that thing, li'l missy!"

It turned out being a simple enough task for the Engineer to sort out the papers into their correct order. Eleven PhDs in hard science apparently counted for something. Within the space of almost an hour, the papers were in the correct order and once again stowed in their blue case. Which was just as well, because at that point the war was called to a halt by a loud siren.

"Stalemate," the woman's voice echoed, Etta jolting upright for a moment and then giving a spiteful look at the wall-mounted speaker in the corner of the room. "Combat will continue tomorrow at 0700 hours."

"Seven o'clock?" Scout moaned, jogging in place just out of sight down the hallway. "Man, that ain't fair!"

"WAR isn't about being FAIR, son! Get your pansy asses into the war room, ladies!"

Etta decided to keep her head down and just follow him quietly without retorting to his comment. She'd just spent her day tidying up and getting men to sort out things she couldn't; starting a feminist argument about the Soldier's tone of speech now would be conversational suicide.

This wasn't the first meeting she'd been to since she'd landed herself in this stupid war, but it was the first one that wasn't held in the kitchen or around a campfire with Engineer's guitar in the background. Etta had a bad feeling about the way everyone gave each other shifty glances and filed into their seats along mostly-empty rows of computers. When they thought she wasn't looking, she kept catching some of the more straightforward BLUs giving her odd glances, as though they felt apprehensive about something.

Soon enough, she found out why, and settled back into her seat to enjoy the show.

Soldier began a rant about everything he could find wrong with the team (which was everything) before shouting about her in particular.

"Ever since this dumbass started her pansy school lessons from Girl Scout Aussie over there, that RED Spy has doubled and _redoubled _his efforts – as has the RED Sniper, since now we don't have our own little blue laser dot keepin' him hiding behind a wall all the time. Having checked our priorities, _men_," he stressed this word especially; "I have come to the conclusion that a war is no place for sissy girls." He paused and turned back to face the audience. "Excludin', of course, our resident backstabber, who is as much of a sissy as I ever saw."

Etta heard a hissing intake of air from somewhere behind her, and glanced back at the Spy. He was visibly shaking as he reached up to shove a cigarette between his lips, and she realised he was doing his best to avoid a fit of hysterical laughter. He deliberately avoided making eye contact with her, and she smirked as she turned back.

So no one else took this seriously, either, then. Good.

"I have no idea why we are being forced to tolerate such a waste of time, effort and other valuable resources, but one thing is clear. That _woman _has got to go!" The Soldier brandished his shovel. No one responded. "Men, are you with me?"

The Spy choked back more laughter, disguising it as a cough. Luckily he was drowned out by some very unenthusiastic cheers from the others, who were playing along for the time being.

Etta grinned. She would make him lose his cool, and it would be well worth it. She stood up and barked back at him with a ridiculously goofy grin. "Yes, sir! I'll be leaving in four days, sir! Entirely because of this speech and not because that was my designated leaving time, sir!"

Soldier lifted his helmet with a thumb, just enough to eye her suspiciously. She bore the brunt of his piercing look and he bade her sit down. "Yeah. Well. Meeting adjourned!"

There was a cloaking sound behind her and the rustle of material that signified the Spy standing up and leaving. She heard choking laughter echo down the hallway and joined in as soon as she herself was out of earshot of the Soldier. The Engineer chuckled and slapped her on the back amiably on the way past.

Man, that Soldier was _dense._


End file.
